Marlon Ramos
James A Grammar
10/3/23

In my third grade year, I found myself as a young and timid child, attempting to deliver a
presentation to my math class. I had never experienced such intense nervousness and fear before.
My classmates gazed at me with expressions of profound disinterest, the teacher poised on his
desk, patiently anticipating my presentation, while two students in the back whispered to each
other, most likely discussing me.

All these thoughts swirling within the mind of a young boy, my mind, but why did I feel
this way? To fully grasp this, we must journey back to my pre-kindergarten days when there was
a project where each student was entrusted with the care of their own caterpillar. Our
responsibility was to ensure their well-being, nurturing them until the day they would emerge as
butterflies, ready for release. I confidently announced, “Mine will be the largest, surpassing all of
yours!” However, my peers remained skeptical, even amused, and their laughter echoed daily as I
repeated my declaration. Each day, I tended to my caterpillar, supplying it with freshly cut leaves
and delicate droplets of water. Yet, when the day arrived to release our newly transformed
butterflies, mine remained trapped in its chrysalis. The disappointment was crushing; I had cared
for that caterpillar as if it were my own child, but it seemed my dedication was in vain. While
others released their vibrant butterflies with joyous smiles, I stood alone in my failure. The
mirthful smiles quickly turned into mocking grins as my peers realized I had failed to release a
butterfly, and mine hadn’t even metamorphosed. I became the subject of ridicule, the boy who
boasted of raising the largest butterfly only to find himself without one. They taunted me with comments like, “Maybe your caterpillar didn’t like you” or “You suck at taking care of
butterflies.” It was this day that instilled in me a deep fear of representing myself or my creations
to others.

On the day of my math presentation, I recalled this traumatic experience and made a
promise to myself. I resolved that any laughter from the audience would not be at my expense
but rather because I had delivered something genuinely humorous. It was a daunting task, as I
stumbled over my sentences and struggled with words. The students in the back couldn’t even
hear me, and I felt like a terrible presenter. Panic surged within me, and I quickly excused myself
to the restroom under the pretense of needing to use it. In front of the mirror, I looked at myself
and reaffirmed my determination. I returned to the presentation with a renewed sense of purpose.
Although fear still coursed through me, I pushed past it, allowing my bravery to take over. I
delivered the presentation with greater clarity and volume, successfully engaging my audience
and even bringing about some laughter. No longer the class joke, but the class comedian.

From that day forward, I consistently incorporated humor into my speech and interactions
with others. As the days passed, I continued to evolve, maturing into a fifth grader. I made new
friends, tackled more challenging presentations, and ventured beyond my comfort zone to engage
with new acquaintances. My comedic endeavors persisted, with the aim of bringing laughter and
joy to those I interacted with. My communication approach extended beyond humor; I
endeavored to treat everyone with respect. I was a well-behaved student, avoiding conflicts and
disputes, and I maintained a playful demeanor with friends while conversing respectfully with strangers. My commitment to good behavior and dedication to my studies resulted in me being
awarded the title of valedictorian at my elementary school.

This accolade presented me with the daunting task of delivering the most significant
speech of my life to an audience of over one hundred people. In crafting my speech, I aimed to
express profound appreciation for all those who had supported and guided me. I sought to ensure
that everyone felt acknowledged and valued. In essence, my communication style prioritized
inclusivity, combining formality with a touch of playfulness to make my farewell memorable.
As I stood before my audience, I made a conscious effort to breathe normally and maintain eye
contact. For, as my younger self once said, “Thank you all for attending and listening to my
speech. I sincerely hope you all have a prosperous future. With that said, have a wonderful
summer.”